


Remember

by estriel



Series: Quarantink 2020 [46]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Body Worship, Light Angst, M/M, Poetic, Porn with Feelings, PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics, Quarantink Challenge, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: One night in PyeongChang. It's the end, after all...
Relationships: Javier Fernández/Yuzuru Hanyu
Series: Quarantink 2020 [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1665598
Comments: 21
Kudos: 65





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Quarantink prompt number 46: _portrait_. 
> 
> I was going to set this fic in a different time, but then I saw a new angle on that PyeongChang pre-medal-ceremony moment, you know the one, and well... it's always a good time to cry over PyeongChang, right? <3

He wonders if this is a mistake. But how could it be, how could it, when this is all he has been able to think about since he saw Yuzu’s desperate tears, rinkside, since he had _caused_ the tears. This is the end, and how could he not do this…

He can barely see Yuzu’s face through his own tears now, and so he traces it with his hands instead, maps out every line with his fingers, willing himself to remember. _Remember_, for it is the first time… the last time. The plane of Yuzu’s forehead, warm under his touch. The arches of his eyebrows, sloping towards the fragility of his temples. The brush of eyelashes when Javi runs gentle fingertips over Yuzu’s eyelids. The translucent softness of the skin under his eyes. The way his nose slopes up at the end, a small, unexpected bump. The cutting lines of his cheekbones. And the lips, oh god his lips, chapped and quivering under Javi’s touch, breath as hot as desert wind ghosting over the pads of his fingers.

He paints a portrait inside his mind’s eye, finds every peak and every valley in the landscape of Yuzu’s features, so different now that he finally gets to explore them like this, with his hands and mouth, after years of merely watching.

He kisses Yuzu’s eyelids, the corners of his mouth, the tip of his nose, the scar on his chin.

“_Javi._” It is both a plea and a blessing, a call Javi couldn’t resist even if he wanted to. He descends upon Yuzu’s mouth at last, like a bird of prey grasping for something much larger than itself.

He tastes the sweetness of Yuzu’s tongue, the unspoiled flavor of what _could be_, and he knows instantly that he is lost, addicted for as long as he lives. His fingers find the silk of Yuzu’s hair, while his lips, like pilgrims, wander along the sinful slope of Yuzu’s throat, pale and exposed, there for the taking.

_Remember, remember, remember_, echoes through Javi’s mind, _remember the sounds he makes._ The gasp when you sink your teeth into his tender flesh, the hiss of pleasure when you pinch the small nub of a nipple, the gallop of his heart when you lay your head on his chest, your palm flat on his abdomen.

Yuzu tugs at his hair then, makes him look up, gazing at him with lust-blown eyes. “_Ai shiteru,” _he whispers, cradling Javi’s face in the palms of his hands, and Javi knows the words, of course he does, feels them spill through his veins like fire and ice, like tremulous fear and dizzying bliss all at once.

He kisses Yuzu’s hand, the pads of his fingers, his knuckles, the lines inside his palm – heart, life, destiny. Then he holds it, Yuzu’s smaller hand ensconced in his larger one, and doesn’t let go, not until they are one, an amalgam of body and soul, clutching at each other desperately amidst the ebb and flow of their love-making. 

_Remember this,_ Javi thinks as he watches Yuzu’s shatter in the moment of climax. The flush reaching from his face down to his chest, the flutter of his eyelashes, the frown between his eyebrows, the pink glisten to his open lips.

Entranced, he moves a few more times, toes curling, eyes falling shut, vaguely aware of Yuzu’s hands on his face when he comes, hot and blinding.

He doesn’t wonder anymore, not after this, _this_ which he has held at bay for years for the sake of things like career and propriety and, perhaps, sanity.

He pulls out, disposes of the condom, then comes back to find Yuzu sitting up on the bed, looking at him with eyes that hover somewhere between the unbearable vulnerability of the past moments, and that hard shell he presents on the ice. A man on the crossroads.

“Is this the end?” Yuzu asks, voice soft but strong.

_Yes_, Javi should say. It would be wiser. It would be… _easier. _

“No,” Javi says, and almost wants to laugh. How could it be, when he can’t even imagine a future without this – him, _them_. He sits down next to Yuzu so he can cup his face in his hand. “This is the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Disliked it? Done crying over PyeongChang? (Never!) Do tell.


End file.
